


Thrice

by Vergustas



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Misery Buns, Misery Buns for EVERYONE, Please keep your arms and legs in the vehicle at all times, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Welcome to Mt. Misery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vergustas/pseuds/Vergustas
Summary: "I have no master!!"Fushimi was standing now, his mission temporarily forgotten in a haze of anger. Kotosaka preened at his feathers, unperturbed by the outburst, and through him Nagare fixing one glowing eye on the Blue Clansman. "On the contrary, Fushimi... you have many."-+-+-+-+-+-Fushimi has accepted his mission, no matter the danger - play the turncoat, infiltrate , and get those doors open so that they can put an end to this madness once and for all. And he'll do it. Because he's a Blue Clansman, through and through, and he believes in his King. He's prepared to die for him, if that's what it takes.But he's not prepared for the words Hisui Nagare, the Green King of JUNGLE, imparts on him. He's not prepared for the fears he works so hard to deny to be dragged before him. He's not prepared to be flayed by the truth.And NO ONE is prepared for the colossal consequences these words will have.
Relationships: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

"You're best suited to <jungle>, which honors free will."

Fushimi's knife clattered to the floor. "It's true," he found himself saying, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A dark tone crept onto his tongue, coloring his voice with bitter truth. "If I stay here," he continued, "I won't have to deal with idiots..." A cruel smirk formed on his lips, the look in his eyes faraway. "Or be forced to obey a superior's reckless orders."

"Affirmative."

Why... why was he revealing all of this to the Green King? And through his conduit bird, no less? And why did this insight into Fushimi's darker desires bother him so much? <jungle> had tried all of this before, cracking into his head... but it had failed. Just as this attempt to sway him with sweet promises of freedom would fail. So, why, then? Why did he feel so conflicted all of the sudden? This was the plan all along, after all...

...and then it clicked.

It was because not only was Nagare's observation of Fushimi true... but that his offer was _so... tempting..._

_Too_ tempting.

Fushimi fixed his trademark glare in place. He didn't particularly enjoy people trying to play on his emotions. He'd already dealt with enough of that in his life. His hand twitched tightly around the PDA in his hand. "Then my answer is obvious." His thumb shifted toward the command button, preparing to open the doors.

"As are your shackles."

Fushimi paused, struck by the odd statement. Above them by several stories stood countless blue uniforms, all ready to charge in like a flood once the gates were open. Even higher yet, the newly acquired airship, screaming towards <jungle>'s lair with catastrophic intent. And somewhere within that mix was HOMRA... was _him_... was _all_ of them, waiting-

"I don't have any shackles," Fushimi retorted.

Once again, Nagare's voice projected through that infernal bird, arresting Fushimi's movement with the ease of simple observation. "I apologize, perhaps 'collar' is a more appropriate term." The room went silent, save for the silent squeak of Fushimi's teeth gritting together. In the back of his mind, his own voice warned him that this was all a part of the Green King's plan, that he was only trying to stall Fushimi, to buy time for... something... "Something with a leash," Nagare continued, "that your _master_ can pull."

"I have no master!!"

Fushimi was standing now, his mission temporarily forgotten in a haze of anger. Kotosaka preened at his feathers, unperturbed by the outburst, and through him Nagare fixed one glowing eye on the Blue Clansman. "On the contrary, Fushimi... you have _many_."

At felt as if a bolt of that acid green lightning had ripped through Fushimi. Perhaps it had. "... _what?_ "

"Your Blue King, Captain Munakata Reishi, for example," Nagare began, "though perhaps that's the easiest to point out. How about that anger, instead? The very thing prompting you... controlling your every move... as it has for so long, begging you to lose control-"

"I'm in control," Fushimi snapped, feeling an almost childish compulsion to argue.

"You're certainly afraid of losing it," the Green King challenged. "Ah, but that's just another of your masters - your undying _fear_."

"...shut up."

Kotosaka hopped along the edge of the cabinet towards Fushimi. "You _hate_ that you're so afraid... And that hate controls you just as much as your fear does."

Crackling through him like power surges, like warring colors, his conflicting emotions clouded his mind. "Stop it..."

"You're good at hating things, Fushimi... Especially yourself."

The PDA fell to the console with a harsh _clack_ , his shaking hands no longer able to hold it. "S-stop it!"

"And _especially_..." Nagare continued, the bird fluttering down to the back of the command room chair. "...you hate the _pain_."

"Stop it!" Fushimi protested, hands clutching his head.

"So... many... masters..." Nagare replied. A touch of what almost sounded like pity painted his voice. "And of all those... your unending pain controls you the most."

"STOP!!" the clansman shouted, swiping a hand at the bird. It flapped out of reach in a mess of squawking and downy feathers.

"You've been a slave all your life, Fushimi... To your fear and hatred of your father-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

"-to the pain and anger of your best friend's betrayal-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!"

"-and how losing him _broke_ you, Fushimi... Don't forget, I've watched you for a long time... And you will never be whole, you'll never be _free_... and _he_ will never be _yours_."

Those words, like his worst fears breathed into existence, saturated Fushimi with a bone deep, paralyzing revelation. The Green King, Hisui Nagare... was _right_. "...no," he whispered, desperately trying to convince - Nagare? Himself? - that this wasn't true.

"As you are, you will remain - a sad, broken little puppet tied by strings of misery to the Blue King..."

"...no..."

"To your father..."

"...stop, please...!"

"And... to your beloved Yata Misaki."

This final admission somehow shattered the spell over Fushimi's body, the catatonia burned away by murderous red as he clung desperately to thoughts of Yata, the good, the overwhelmingly bad... It felt as if he'd burned out all the oxygen in the room, the very breath is his lungs gone as he struggled to draw more in. Kotosaka remained still, Nagare watching the Blue Clansman through its eyes, letting the internal tantrum play out. "...as I said," he murmured, not bothering to disguise the ruth in his voice. 

Before Fushimi could compose himself, the door slid open, revealing Gojo Sukuna shrouded in the menacing green light of his scythe. "You shouldn't waste your time, Nagare," the kid interjected. "Freedom isn't meant for the weak!"

"Sukuna-" Nagare admonished, but it was too late. The interruption allowed Fushimi to break himself out of his mental fugue, renewing his anger at having been delayed and allowing him to focus once again. His hand shot towards the PDA.

Sukuna was prepared. A quick swing of his scythe sent the sharpened edge straight down into Fushimi's hand, lodging itself there and pinning the Blue Clansman and his now defunct PDA to the command console. Fushimi let out a muted cry, staring down at his hand in shock. Sukuna grinned widely at him, pleased at finally having had the chance to attack.

But the limited space proved a difficult obstacle for the boy's weapon. When he jerked it free, he only managed to get the opposite end stuck in the ceiling. Fushimi used the opening, slipping a few blades into his free hand launching them at the Green Clansman.

"Crap!" the kid shouted, recalling his aura in the nick of time. Freed from the ceiling, Sukuna fell to the floor, pipe in hand, and rolled backwards to the safety of the hallway. Fushimi's attack endured and a fresh barrage of knives went sailing towards the boy.

"He's not a J-Rank for nothing," Nagare suddenly stated.

As if on cue, a swirl of green met the throwing knives, reflecting their trajectory every which way. Fushimi's small space suddenly went from his greatest asset to his worst nightmare - he had nowhere to run.

One knife struck the console harmlessly.

One embedded itself into the top of Fushimi's thigh.

The other, deep into the lower left side of his abdomen.

He fell to his knees with a grunt. How... how could he have been so careless... How could this have happened... Captain... Misaki...

A rumble, deep beneath Fushimi's feet, shook the control room around them. Above him, Sukuna stood, scythe poised to strike the killing blow. "The old man says it's time to go, Nagare... but I don't mind killing the mini boss before we-"

"No."

Sukuna whipped around to pin the bird with an incredulous stare. "What!? But, he's a traitor!!"

Kotosaka's head tilted. "We continue as planned. Please escort Kotosaka to safely. That is your primary mission, now."

This garnered another petulant glare from the boy... but, to Fushimi's surprise, Sukuna backed down. "Wha... what..." he tried, starting to feel faint. Even over the rumble, he could hear the soft _pat pat pat_ of his blood dripping on the floor. "Why..."

"I told you," Nagare said, sounding as if he was explaining himself for the tenth time. "<jungle>'s J-Rank members have access to everything... and only if you opened those doors would you be considered as anything else."

The ground lurched as metal and stone groaned in protest. Fushimi's eyes widened as he finally understood what was happening. "This place," he whispered. "You're collapsing it." He grit his teeth. "You can't unlock the Slate, so you're just going to bury it!? Like some kind of sore loser!?"

Sukuna hands tightened audibly around the pipe at Fushimi's remark, but Kotosaka squawked in what _almost_ sounded like a laugh. "Sore loser? Fushimi, you misunderstand. This is not a loss. This... is a backup plan. A delay... that's become a new challenge, of sorts."

"Like hard mode!" Sukuna supplied.

"Hard mode! Hard mode!" came the bird's voice for the first time. Nagare quickly resumed control.

"Yes, just like so." The headquarters gave another dangerous shake, this time debris smacking loudly against the ground outside the control room. "Let's go, Sukuna."

"Wuh-wait!"

The two - three - Green Clansmen paused, looking back at the bleeding Fushimi. "Yes?" Nagare prompted.

"...if I'm entitled to all this information as a J-Rank," Fushimi huffed out, "then why did you hide this backup plan from me? What about... all this bullshit.. about freedom... and being equals, huh!?"

While Sukuna looked annoyed, Nagare's voice came across as almost surprised by Fushimi's question, as if the Blue Clansman asked for such an obvious answer. "I never hid anything from you, Fushimi... you simply didn't ask." Kotosaka's head gave one last tilt. "Then again, obeying your king's suicidal orders must have been very distracting. Don't be too hard on yourself, Fushimi. This mission failure is on your King, not you."

Fushimi was stunned into silence.

"Mission failures are so lame," Sukuna commented. "You sure you don't want me to put this guy out of his misery?"

The bird turned away. "That won't be necessary, Sukuna. Besides..." A single round green eye glanced back at Fushimi, the Blue Clansman barely conscious. "We'll be seeing him again very soon, I think."

The earth shook violently around them.

Fushimi blinked, but the Green Clansmen were gone. How long had he actually had his eyes closed? It felt... so cold all of the sudden... And his body so heavy...

He slumped over, landing in the small pool of his own blood with a splat.

"...the Captain's fault," he whispered to himself, his vision starting to flicker. "...that would be easier, wouldn't it..."

But even if it were... Nagare was right about one thing: Fushimi was drowning in more than just his own blood...

He felt the warmth trickle from the corner of his mouth, down his cheekbone, to the shell of his ear, soaking into his hair.

His shackles... his _masters_ , as Nagare called them... All got him to where his was right then.

At least he would finally be free of them, he mused fuzzily, even if it wasn't the way Nagare proposed.

The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the smooth plate of synthetic armor, framed in a green glow and soft blonde hair...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fushimi awakens in the infirmary and has to face not only the Captain, but also his own feelings about the final encounter with the Green King.

_"Mission... failed... I'm sorry, sir..."_

_Fushimi-!"_

He woke with a start, straining the tubes and stitches clinging sharply to his skin. After a split second of panicked breathing, Fushimi recalled where he was and why: the infirmary back at Scepter 4, healing from some nasty wounds he collected during the failed operation to liberate - or destroy - the Dresden Slate held prisoner by Hisui Nagare.

At least, that's what he'd been told.

During his time undercover, Fushimi wasn't privy to much of the Clans' dealings, though it didn't take long to figure it all out. If anything, <jungle>'s scramble to defend and eventually bury the Slate was enough to connect the dots. Everyone's last ditch effort for control...

The thought turned Fushimi's stomach. It had been hard to sort through the mess of feelings the aftermath had brought him. He'd been rescued by Douhan, spared from the frying pan and delivered to the operating table. He didn't remember much, just flashes and masked faces, machines and the stench of antiseptic... Memories of the cool metal tables of the morgue all those years ago went whirling about his mind, threatening to replace the outline of his father's body beneath the sheets with his own. He wouldn't have minded all that much. At least it would have spared him the emotional complications of everything else that followed.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been in surgery. Several hours, judging by the severity in the surgeon's voice as he relayed the process to Fushimi. The man's tone, stern and tired, grated on the Clansman's ears; he was too tired to comprehend anything anyway. Save for the little tidbit about his Captain. Apparently, the Blue King had been obnoxiously insistent as to the wellbeing of his third in command. So much so that Fushimi almost felt scolded himself, but the surgeon tried to reassure the Clansman that the Captain would not be allowed to debrief him until the breathing tube as removed. How very generous.

The following morning, after staying conscious and coherent long enough to glare in irritation at any nurse brave enough to record his vitals, Fushimi was finally granted reprieve from the device. He coughed and wheezed and he felt like he'd been spoon fed razorblades, but it was infinitely better to have one less contraption pulling at his sore, weak body. His first question had been a hoarse request for his immediate discharge. The attending physician gave him a look that said, "nice try". And so Fushimi was still confined to his hospital bed, unable to escape the visitor he knew would soon be there.

He no longer had a PDA, so there was no judging the state of affairs outside Scepter 4. This kind of information blackout was new to him, and made it all the more difficult to remain in bed. Thoughts of his Captain, of Misaki, of the entirety of their operation, and how they had all fared after the collapse consumed him. The fact that he was even still around after regaining consciousness - and that he vaguely recalled seeing the Captain - meant that the Blue King's sword was still intact... But that didn't tell him about the state of a certain Red Clansman, whom he'd been so sure wouldn't miss an opportunity to take on the Green Clan. Not knowing anything was torture, for him _and_ the hospital staff that had to deal with him. So much so, that after the third or fourth death glare from their patient, the nurses we able to fetch someone from the information department, who in turn gave them the intel that no one else had been seriously hurt in the collapse.

This allowed the young man to relax, if only for a moment, before facing his _next_ hurdle.

Within an hour of the relieving news, the door swung inward and Munakata Reisi admitted himself to Fushimi's hospital room. The third-in-command didn't react to the sudden burst of ambient noise, nor to the soft steps of the Blue King, instead opting to stare blankly out the window at the grey drizzle of rain. It hadn't stopped since the failed operation...

"Fushimi."

"Captain," Fushimi replied, finally responding to his name. He kept his gaze fixed to the outdoors.

"...it seems that, with a little time, you'll make a full recovery and should be allowed discharge by tomorrow."

"So they tell me."

An awkward silence fell between them. Fushimi grew increasingly irritated, the tension building in his muscles as he waited for his Captain to ask the question that he really wanted to ask. But, of course, the Blue King was infuriatingly silent. Waiting. He wanted to _Fushimi_ to speak. To _reveal_. To _confess_ what had transpired within the belly of the beast. And when the inquiry simply refused to come, Fushimi clicked his tongue and forced himself to speak. "We were too late, Captain. _I_ was too late."

"It was a long shot, Fushimi. We both knew that when we agreed to this operation."

"You don't deal in 'long shots', Captain," the Blue Clansman said bitterly. "You expected this would work. You had no reason not to. I failed to meet that expectation."

The Captain walked around to the foot of Fushimi's bed, staying just enough in the younger man's peripheral that they could see each other. "If we're comparing failures, then it ultimately rests with my inability to keep the Slate from being taken in the first place," he replied evenly. "Subterfuge or not, your display outside Mihashira tower was, for all intents and purposes, an accurate one."

Fushimi recalled their 'spat', the one meant to solidify his defection to the Greens and his reputation as a turncoat. He remembered his 'display', his 'anger'... and how little of a playact it had really been. "...regardless," he replied, turning towards the Captain. "They outsmarted us all. The Slate is buried and doing god knows what without anyone monitoring it... and <jungle> is still out there."

"True, but the fact that Hisui Nagare no longer possesses the Slate is worth something."

Fushimi felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. "He collapsed a third of the district."

"You couldn't've known they planned to sabotage the place."

"Couldn't I? That was my job, after all."

"Your job was to get in so that _we_ could get in," the Captain reminded him.

"Yes... and I failed at that, too."

"As long as <jungle> no longer possesses the Slate-"

"As long as _they_ don't have it," Fushimi snapped. He glared angrily at the tubes attached to his hands. "The Silver Clan, the Gold Clan, the Blue Clan... If you can't have it, no one can, is that right!?" He clenched his fists so tightly that they shook. "Anything to maintain control, is that it!?"

Silence permeated the air once more, broken apart only by the low, sharp breaths huffed by Fushimi. Munakata watched his subordinate carefully for a moment. "...to maintain _order_ ," he eventually corrected him.

His words, so carefully measured, made Fushimi's breath catch in his throat. "Order," the Blue Clansman whispered, his body slumping back against the pillow. He exhaled tiredly. "...I'm sorry, sir."

"I can only imagine the stress you were under during our little mission, Fushimi. And..." He paused, his voice dropping ever so slightly. "I can only imagine how frustrated you must be. With me, with the Clans, with yourself-"

Fushimi squeezed his eyes shut, closing himself out of the Captain's gaze.

"-but I'm sure you did all you could."

At this, Fushimi's eyes opened. Perhaps he was imagining it... but something about the Captain's words, which the man always chose oh so carefully, bothered him. He was 'sure'? Not 'certain'? Did he not remember why Fushimi was there in the first place? Why he was in the hospital now? How could he possibly fathom that Fushimi would do anything other than what they'd discussed? Was it because he'd failed? Because he hadn't seen the plan to sink the ground on top of the Slate-

"Fushimi, I'm not a mind reader, despite the men's rumors to the contrary."

The Blue Clansman clicked his tongue, refusing to look the Captain in the eyes. It wasn't his Captain he should be mentally berating, he eventually realized, but himself. No one made him delay. No one stayed his hand. Fushimi had failed simply because he had been, for even just a split second, not sure whose side he agreed with more. And... that scared him.

_"Ah, but that's just another of your masters - your undying fear."_

Anger bubbled up in his chest as the intrusive memory, which only served to unlock the other astute observations the Green King had made. And like clockwork, the anger and hatred, the fear - it all knotted up inside his chest until it was almost too painful to breathe. Fushimi forced himself upright once more in an effort to control the panic before his Captain chalked it up to something other than his physical wounds. Mind reader or not, the Captain was disgustingly perceptive. The last thing he needed was for Munakata to glean what it was lurking underneath all those roiling emotions: a desperate need to _escape_.

"...Hisui Nagare tried to stop me," he eventually answered. "Through that bird of his. He thought that if he made a good enough argument, I wouldn't open the doors."

"...and did he?"

Fushimi glared at his Captain, though more in disbelief than anything. However, the Blue King's face wasn't accusatory. It was passive. Almost... curious. "Did he what?" Fushimi asked, unable to resist forcing the Captain to voice his misgivings about his third in command.

"Did he make a good enough argument?"

The fact that the Blue King came right out and said it... Somehow, it took the wind straight from Fushimi's sails. That, and the unending swells of emotion were finally starting to suck him dry. Tired and embittered by the entire experience, Fushimi laid back down, twisting away from the Captain with nothing but a wince. "...he never found out," Fushimi finally replied. He held out his bandaged hand, recalling the glimmering green blade that had pierced straight through it. "...Sukuna Gojo attacked before I could engage the command."

"I see," was the Captain's brilliant response.

Neither spoke, though Fushimi could sense the unspoken question in the air: what was it that the Green King had said to Fushimi that made him hesitate? But he wouldn't ask. Not yet, in any case. And Fushimi had been honest enough about the event that the Blue King would hopefully be gracious enough to drop it until that time came. If it ever did.

"Rest, Fushimi. You've been through hell, to put it lightly, and I want you well and back to work as soon as you're able. It's been chaos without you and I'd rather not endure it a second longer than I must."

It was meant to be reassuring, Fushimi knew that, but the words failed to reach his heart. Still, he sighed and waved the Captain off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll clean up the mess right away, sir."

"Mm."

He listened quietly as the Captain retreated towards the door, only to stop just after the click of the handle. "If you'd been given the time," he said, "I know you'd have made the right decision." The door squeaked lightly as he opened it. "I look forward to your report." And with that, it clicked shut, leaving Fushimi alone once more.

His eyes burned, frozen open as he clutched tightly at his chest. He'd only told Munakata that he'd been delayed by the Green King's propositions, not that he'd actually been _considering_ them... Because, even though those stupid Greens and their reckless King had made valid points - points that, to some degree, resonated with Fushimi... He hadn't actually thought about taking them up on their offer, right? He hadn't given his King, the man he'd gone through such peril for, that impression, right?

"I made... the right choice..." he whispered, his breath rapid and short. "I made the... the right choice..."

Doubt, like a poison, slid in through the porous fear and anger and hatred that Nagare had exposed within Fushimi.

"...right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the apparent lack of Yata, I promise we'll get more of him soon! I'm having too much fun being self-indulgent and writing all these feelings flyin' every which way. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Allo!
> 
> I just really REALLY like torturing Fushimi, okay? I dunno wtf is wrong with me. XD
> 
> He's just got so much AMMO.
> 
> I like angst, that's my only excuse. And it ain't much a one. XD AAAANYWAY
> 
> I have no idea how far this will go or what, but enjoy! I'm sure I've got a few chapters in me!


End file.
